Centuries
by sammysmissingshoe
Summary: The Blair Witch doesn't exist, but the mysterious murders occurring in Indiana are starting to raise suspicion from our favourite hunters. Set in Season One, hurt boys to come. Rated T for lots of blood, and usual Winchesterness. But yeah, lotta blood.
1. Some Legends Are Told

So a while back, I saw the movie _Blair Witch Project_, and I loved it, which is saying something because I am not a horror fan. Anyway, I thought that it deserved a fic, but you don't have to have seen the movie to understand this. This fic actually involved research and fact checking. I feel like a real hunter! Story& Chapter titles from Fall Out Boy song, Centuries.

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><p><em>May 26, 1902.<em>

Spring was beautiful in America. Phillip's old home was always cold, he'd always dreamt about leaving home, so when he heard about some woman offering jobs on a farm in Indiana, he'd jumped at the opportunity.

After an overly cramped boat ride, and hours or walking and horse backing meshed together, he'd finally arrived.

The farm was gorgeous. Flowers sprouted along the lawn, and trees swayed smoothly in the breeze, almost like a graceful dance. Phillip used to enjoy climbing trees as a child, but one harsh tumble from one left him with both a scar, and no desire to ever climb again.

While he subconsciously reached for the scar on his back, he felt a sudden yet gentle hand touch his shoulder. He turned around to see a young woman in front of him.

"Are you Phillip?" She asked.

Phillip's English wasn't the greatest, so he chose just to nod, rather than humiliate himself.

Her eyes brightened excitedly, and she smiled at him. "Let me show you where you'll be sleeping. We can deal with your duties at a later time."

Nodding again, Phillip trudged behind her, dragging what was left of his belongings with him. He began developing a small pain in the pit of his stomach, but he dismissed it as the nerves of being someplace so foreign to him.

As he neared a small shed the feeling grew, but it wasn't quite as strong as the smell. It was revolting, but the woman was continuing forward, seemingly oblivious the stench.

Part of him wanted to turn and run, but he was unable to stop himself from following.

It wasn't much later that he had regretted that decision. By the time he entered the shed, he felt something crash into the back of his head, and he was out cold before he hit the floor.

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><p>Her victim looked so peaceful as he slept. Isn't that what he came to America for? Peace? She only wished to give it to him. But, there cannot be peace without suffering.<p>

While her victim slept, she tore his clothing from him, and studied him. What stood out the most was a wide scar on his back, healed long ago, but its effects still obviously lingered. Nothing was permanent, nothing but scars. This man came here for something permanent, did he not? All she does is help the lost and restless.

Curiously, she traced a knife along his backside, and slowly slid the point through the scar, until the man twitched and let out a pained moan. She had a lot of work to do before he could find his peace.

Let the suffering begin.

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><p><em>Now<em>

"No. Freaking. Way." Dean said in a mix of awe and disbelief from behind the Impala's wheel."

"I know." Sam agreed. "Murders in Blair Indiana's woods. This is just too real to be a coincidence."

"I won't deny the movie's awesomeness, but there's no way any of that crap was true. Witches ain't gonna snap a few twigs if they want you dead. They just take you out."

"I don't even know if it is a witch, Dean. A lot of stuff could have pulled off what she- it did. Remember what happens when there's two victims instead of just one?"

"Yeah, she makes one of them face the wall while she kills the other."

"That narrows it down. Not everything can control people's actions. Ghosts, demons-"

"Witches." Dean added.

"Why are you so stuck on witches?"

"Cuz we don't know how to take on witches, unless you feel like scouring the woods for an altar."

"Not knowing how to deal with them won't make it not a witch."

"Lotta negatives there, Sammy."

"It's 'Sam.'" He protested with a huff. "But my point still stands."

"Fine, maybe it's a witch. Guess you'll have to do some research."

"And what exactly are you gonna be doing?"

"I'm the people person. I'm gonna ask around town to see what the locals know."

Sam scoffed, and pulled a classic Sam Winchester bitchface. "Meaning you're gonna find a hot chick, pretend you're some bigshot reporter investigating the murders, and get her number?"

Dean made a mock hurt face. "Course not, Sammy." He smirked. "This time I'm going with FBI agent, and I'll be getting a lot more than her number."

Sam groaned. "You're gross, Dean."

"Least I'm not a bitch."

"Jerk."

Dean couldn't help but smile at their classic banter. Even though it had been a while since Sam had got back from Stanford, it still made him smile every time it happened. "So, run me through the vics again."

The sound of paper crinkling accompanied ACDC blasting though the speakers as Sam pulled out the newspaper. His eyes hurriedly skimmed the paper, and he began his synopsis. "Taylor Markell. Found by some hikers in the woods, appeared to have missing teeth, and fingernails."

Dean had been a hunter for a very long time. He's seen a lot of crap, but that? That was just plain nasty.

Sam continued, "Few days later a couple was found, only thing the vics had in common were missing teeth and-"

"Fingernails. Yeah, I remember." Dean cringed. "Nothing else in common?"

Sam shook his head, his bangs swaying across his forehead, just shy of falling in front of his eyes. "Different ages, two were guys, one was a girl. So far all they got is that they were found right by the woods."

"Woods usually equals Wendigo, but there's too much- body left for it to be one."

"My thoughts exactly." Sam concurred.

"Shifter?" Dean suggested, not taking his bright green eyes off the road. The Impala purred as it zoomed down the pavement. "They're pretty torture friendly."

Despite the slightly humouress oxymoron, Sam couldn't bring himself to smile and he deadpanned, "Shifters can't control people though."

"It could if it drugged them."

"No traces of drugs in the vics systems."

Back and forth they went, spit-balling theories, crossing potential monsters off their list, until their options had been narrowed down to demon, ghost, or actual witch, much to Dean's dismay.

"We gotta narrow it down more than this. We can't start the hunt until we know what we'll be up against."

"Okay, how bout this: Killings have all been going down at night, right?"

"Right." Sam confirmed.

"So, during the day we can scope out the forest and look for sulfur. If we don't find it, we can scratch demon off the list."

"We can't search an entire forest in a day while trying to find traces of sulfur. We'll get lost. Or go crazy and kill each other."

Dean's face feigned offense. "You doubt my tracking skills?"

"Wendigo, Dean." Sam reminded him.

The memory of waking up chained in a cave popped into Dean's head, and he winced. "Okay, you got me there. What do you suggest?"

Sam's hand ran through his too long hair, too long according to Dean anyway, in thought. "Well, demons sometimes cause electrical storms or crop failures. Don't see any of those, so, maybe we can cross demons off?"

"Good enough for me. So, how we gonna find out if it's a ghost or witch?"

Sam huffed out and leaned back in his seat, the car's leather squeaking underneath his weight. "Find candidates I guess."

Dean groaned. "That could take a while, Sammy."

"We don't have a whole lot of other options."

There was a moment of semi-silence as Dean grumbled in frustration. "Alright, but I don't like it."

Sam scoffed. "Welcome to our life."

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><p><em>November 18, 1904.<em>

Nobody understood. They all called her crazy, but they just didn't understand. Times were hard, money was hard to come by. It's not her fault that people are willing to pay you for a lost life.

Money had more value than "love." She didn't believe in love, but money? Money was hard to deny. Her husband was the first to go. He was so very confused, didn't understand why she was hurting him. He always was a rather slow one.

Still not enough though, she needed more money. Eventually, she realized that her children were parasites of her happiness, sucking away everything she had. They simply had to go. Poor things, they never knew their greater purpose.

Odd though, man after man had gone missing by her hand, and nobody cared, but children? Suddenly the world wanted to point fingers. She didn't like fingers being pointed. They didn't point fingers without their fingernails, now did they?

Everyone still continued to accuse. She was going to be hunted, so she had to hide.

Why did beautiful women have it easier? It wasn't fair. She was larger than the rest of them, she didn't have gently curled blond hair. Her face was harsh, her eyes were cold. She didn't smile. Ugly women didn't get to smile, what did they have to smile about?

How she despised pretty women. As she hid from the pointing fingers, a woman passed her by and smiled at her, unaware of all she had done. But that's when she realized, she should be allowed to smile too.

The woman didn't stand a chance. Her opponent was much bigger, much stronger than she was, she was out before she even knew what happened.

Another victim had been subdued, she pried open her victim's mouth, and yanked a tooth right from her gums. Still unconscious, the woman only cried out in her state, a lone tear slipping past her eyes.

"_Not so pretty now, are you?"_

The woman never awoke. Maybe she never would again. Taking all her teeth out was the simple part. Putting them into her own mouth is where it got difficult, but she managed.

With her brand new teeth, she smiled.

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><p>Sorry about the slightly confusing pronouns at the end there, but "she" is going to be kept a secret for a while longer. If you're confused, feel free to tell me. I'd hate for you to miss out on something due to my failure to explain. If you're enjoying, drop a review, and I'll see y'all soon with the next chapter. Everything is all plotted out, I just gotta put it into words. Wish me luck!<p> 


	2. Some Turn to Dust

Thanks for all the reviews everyone! Anyone else slightly disappointed in the midseason finale? Maybe this will keep you guys entertained during part of the wait for the new episode. Enjoy the next chapter!

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><p>Driving to Indiana was boring, arriving at the hotel was boring, putting on that stupid fed suit just plain sucked, but all it took was one pretty girl to make all these things worth it for Dean. He'd told Sam not to wait up for him, which was good because- well… He had managed to keep himself rather well occupied that night.<p>

Although, something was bothering him the morning after. Like he had forgotten something. Oh yeah, looking for a witch or finding out anything that could've been useful for their hunt. Whoops. Hopefully Sam's research was more fruitful than Dean's.

Miniscule bouts of guilt crept into Dean's stomach as he approached their hotel room. All guilt was swept away almost instantly when he saw Sam's expression as he entered the room. He was excited. His research must've paid off.

"Dean, I think I got it!" Sam announced eagerly. "Sounds like a spirit, and I know who too."

Luck. About time. Dean plopped down beside Sam, and dropped the bag of food he had brought with him on the table. "Awesome. What you got?"

Oh no. He had unleashed the geek. "So, back in the late 1800's slash early 1900's, there was this woman from La Porte Indiana, Belle Gunness. She was one of America's top ten serial killers. She murdered most of her husbands and boyfriends, and, get this, even her own children."

"You serious?"

"Wish I wasn't. Killed them for the life insurance."

"People are sick, man."

Sam nodded. "No kidding. She also lured men from other countries to her farm, and then she'd kill them too. She stuffed their bodies under the floorboards of this old shed."

Dean's stomach was beginning to rebel against the half pound burger he had eaten earlier.

"Here's where the connections come in." Sam went on. "Once the bodies were found, they all had missing f-"

"If you mention missing fingernails and teeth one more time, I'm gonna puke. And I'll aim for you."

Sam shrank back a little. "Sorry. So, yeah. You get the picture."

"So, if she's from La Porte, what's her spirit doing here?"

Sam's eyes darted away from Dean. His hand rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

"Sam?"

"It- it's not pleasant reasoning."

Great. "Screw it. Just tell me."

Secretly, Sam was enjoying Dean's discomfort. Knowing Dean, he'd spent the entire day hitting on girls at a bar until one of them was ditsy enough to fall for Dean's stupid pickup lines. Sam was the one that actually did all the work. To him, this was payback. He suppressed a sneaky grin. "Back in 1904, a woman from Blair was discovered, and all of her teeth had been pulled out."

"What did I tell you about the teeth thing?"

Being a little brother for twenty two years had made Sam a pretty decent actor, especially when it came to the innocent act. "Hey, it's a necessary evil, Dean." His little grin gave him away, but he continued. "Anyway, looks like Belle _ripped out the woman's teeth," _Emphasis was prominent in those five words, "And- brace yourself- put them in her own mouth."

Okay, that was it. "Now you're just trying to make me sick."

Even though he wasn't exaggerating, Sam couldn't help but laugh at his brother's response. "I'm not, I swear! I don't have any idea why, but it's the truth."

Rubbing both hands over his face, Dean grumbled, "I hate people. Just- just skip to why her spirit's here."

Rolling his eyes with a little smirk, Sam knew he had won. "Belle was on the run at that point in her life. When she killed that woman, she dumped the body in the woods."

"Like- the _woods _woods?"

"Yeah, those woods. The locals at the time were pretty superstitious, even back then, so they buried the woman in the woods, and built a little shrine over the grave. That's where the whole pile of rocks thing came from."

"In the movie it was just a warning though, right? Three kids went into the woods, they found three little rock piles outside their tent one morning, and then they all died."

"It comes from a different tradition though. The rocks stood as a grave marker, and they tied sticks to the trees as some kind of honouring for the deceased. That's where the movie got the idea."

"Okay, so you've given me the background for the movie, but you still ain't explained why Belle's spirit is in Blair."

"Getting there. When Belle died, she got cremated. She didn't have any remains to latch on to, but… She still had the woman's teeth."

"So…" It took Dean a moment, but then he realized. "She's linked to the other chick's body cuz she's still got her teeth?"

"I think so."

"Think that if we burn mystery girl's corpse that it'll take care of the Blair Bitch?"

Sam chuckled, his dimples making his smile all the more adorable. "That's what I'm hoping. But what's gonna suck is getting into the woods, finding where she's buried, without drawing attention to ourselves. If Belle finds out what we're up to, she's gonna get pissed."

"We were on a roll a minute ago, don't step on the moment now."

"We got a lot that could get in the way, though. Belle's spirit, stupid kids trying to sneak in on a dare, cops'll be everywhere trying to keep 'em out. And you know people probably tainted the place by putting up their own crap, and trying to pass it off as the witch's doing."

Dean sighed. "You're right, that is gonna suck."

Sam nodded once more. "When should we head out to the woods?"

"Well, it'd be nice to get a whole day, so how about we leave first thing tomorrow?"

"You gonna be conscious by then?"

"I won't be doing any jumping jacks, but I can do it."

"Alright. Morning it is."

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><p>"I told you you were gonna be a pain in the ass if you got up this early."<p>

Weakly and tiredly, Dean swatted Sam's arm. "You're a pain in the ass." He grumbled. His retorts weren't the best this time of day. The sun had barely risen, the leaves surrounding their feet at the forest floor beamed in the sun's rays; their oranges and reds creating a nature made mosaic.

"How should we do this?" Dean asked. "Split up? If she likes taking people in pairs-"

"I'm gonna stop you there." Sam interrupted. "She doesn't exclusively grab people in twos, we're a lot safer if we stick together. Trust me."

"Fine, fine. And I guess we'll be able to watch each other's back better this way."

"Yeah. Those cops probably won't buy our FBI story for too long. At least if we're here early we might not run into any kids, at least not for a while." As they trudged forward, he added, "You got the map with you?"

Dean reached into his back pocket, and pulled it out. "Got it right here. And if you throw it into the river, I'm throwing you in right after it,"

"This isn't the movie, Dean."

As their banter continued, there was a sudden _snap _from behind them.

"You hear that?" Dean asked, his voice instantly turning to a whisper.

"Unfortunately." Sam grabbed his gun filled with rock salt, and whipped it towards the direction of the sound.

"Thought killings only happened at night."

"Well, bodies were found in the morning. Disappearances could have happened anytime." Sam's danger radar was rising. His finger twitched on the trigger, but not enough to set it off.

Before Dean got the chance to reach for his own gun, he was grabbed by an invisible force, and it hurled him into a tree, headfirst.

"Dean!" Sam shouted in panic. He could already see a cut across Dean's forehead, blood tricking down his temple. Sam rushed forward to help him, but he felt something take hold of him, and then shove him into a tree as well.

Before he blacked out, he saw a large woman flickering in and out of view, but then her, and everything else, simply faded away.

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><p>Oops, did I kidnap the boys by mistake? Nope, that was definitely on purpose. Most of the stuff about Belle Gunness was true, the only parts I made up were about the woman who lost her teeth being from Blair. Everything else did happen, as sick as it is. There'll be some (a lot) of Winchester blood next chapter, so fair warning. Drop a review if y'all've got the time, and I'll see you soon!<p> 


	3. Or to Gold

Wow, you guys rock! I've never gotten so many reviews on just the first two chapters. Well, maybe I have, I don't keep track that well. Anyways, you all are awesome. I shall reward all of you with the final chapter! Lotta hurt!Sam here, mild hurt!Dean too.

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><p>Sam awoke to a situation he felt he was far too well acquainted with. The familiar sensation of ropes against his wrist told him he was fastened the stone cold floor, it pressing up against his back. He determined that he was in some kind of shack, mostly likely the one where the woman had lost her teeth. The thought made Sam shudder; he could only pray that he didn't meet the same fate.<p>

What scared him even more was that of his brother's state. Sam's eyes shifted about the room, but when he saw Dean, it only elevated his panic.

Dean was standing straight up, facing the corner.

Watching closely, Sam noticed Dean's fists continuously clenching and unclenching. He was fighting.

"Dean!" Sam harshly whispered.

Suspense grew and grew until finally, Dean answered back. "Sammy?"

Sam sighed in relief. "Yeah. Yeah, it's me. You alright?"

"Can't freaking move an inch, but yeah, I'm good. You?"

Sam's eyes instantly went to the ropes around his wrists and feet. "Well… I'm not hurt anyway."

Dean knew what that meant. Sam may not be hurt, but he was in trouble. "Can you get out of whatever's keeping you down?"

Sam tensed his hands, and felt a little give in the ropes. "Eventually."

"Okay, I've still got my gun, but I can't reach it. Lost the salt rifle, but real bullets might scare her off, at least for a second. See if you-" Dean was suddenly shoved further into the wall, his already injured head colliding harshly with the plaster.

Belle Gunness's ghost flickered into the room, her darkened eyes glaring at Dean. "One mustn't look before his time." Her voice was a lot like the room they were in; cold, harsh, worn out. "Your fate shall be determined after his." She raised a finger at Sam, but then instantly lowered it. "Shouldn't point fingers, shouldn't point fingers…" Over and over she repeated the litany as she approached Sam.

One thing Sam hadn't noticed, hadn't wanted to notice, was that his hands were tied at his side, but if Belle wanted, she would have easy access to his fingers. He instantly curled his hands into tight fists.

His efforts to shield his hands didn't hinder hers from trying to get at them. In life, Belle was ridiculously strong; as a ghost her strength had multiplied intensely, so she had no trouble prying one of Sam's fingers free.

Another thing that Sam had picked up on was that Belle didn't have any weapons or tools to use to remove his fingernails. He realized her intentions when she grabbed her nail in between her teeth. His on consolation was that it was over quickly.

Sam screamed as she tore off his nail, and then he cried out his brother's name. "D-Dean!" Deep down Sam knew that Dean couldn't do anything to help him right now, but just saying his name have him some kind of hope.

No matter how much hope he had, it wasn't strong enough to overcome the agony sending sparks through Sam's entire arm. He couldn't stop his every breath he panted out from sounding like a whimper.

Belle still held the nail in her mouth, and then she spat it on the ground, fleck of Sam's blood spattering the floor around it. She smiled at Sam, cocking her head sideways. "No more finger pointing from you, child."

Again, she bit down on one of his fingernails, and Sam's breath hitched as he braced himself. She wrenched her head to the side, and just like that another nail was gone. The pain had now doubled since the first time, and Sam's back arched high off the floor with another scream, only this time Belle clamped her dead hand over his mouth, muffling his cry,

"Shh." She hushed. The menace in her voice was far more apparent when it was soft, and Sam's breath picked up again underneath her hand.

Meanwhile, Dean was enduring his own torture. He was completely frozen; forced to listen to Sammy scream and call out his name, but he couldn't do a single thing to stop it. Dean wished he hadn't figured out what was making Sam scream.

At the end of the second cry, Sam's scream suddenly became muffled, and it put Dean in even more of a panic. "Sammy!"

All Dean heard in response were frightened whimpers, sounds he did not want to hear ever again from his brother. Even though Sam was his baby brother, he wasn't weak by any means, so if he was freaking _whimpering _in pain, it must've been really bad.

Inwardly, Dean thrashed about as hard as he could, but his body didn't even twitch. The only shot they had of getting out was if Sam managed to break free.

Only two nails down, and Sam already wanted to just give up and black out. Everything about this woman terrified him. The fact that she didn't need any kind of tool to rip out his nails would probably give him nightmares for a week.

While his right hand throbbed in pain, too much pain to be of any use, his left hurriedly worked at the ropes. He only had three fingers left before she would start in on his other hand, so he knew he had to hurry.

He was so focused on freeing himself that when another fingernail got ripped off, the shock and pain made his vision go white for a moment. When his senses went back to normal, he could hear himself screaming against her hand again.

Forget having three, well, two now really, fingers time to free himself, Sam wasn't sure he'd be able to make through one. But as much as he wanted to give up, he knew Dean was counting on him.

Using that motivation as fuel, mixed with his fear, the ropes finally snapped, and Belle didn't appear to notice.

Searching the floor for anything he could use, his eyes fell upon a rusted nail a little to his left. Praying it was made of iron, his hand carefully crept towards it. By the time he had felt his hand touch the nail, Belle had already bit down on another fingernail, but Sam stuck the, hopefully iron, nail in her eye before she had the chance to rip it out.

Iron or not, the nail did the trick. Belle released Sam's finger with a shriek, and soon after, she dissipated.

With Belle gone for the moment, Dean was finally released from her hold. He rushed over to Sam, and with great care on his right hand, he undid the ropes, and helped Sam to his feet. "You okay?" After seeing Sam's exhausted bitchface, he felt slightly embarrassed. "Bad question."

"Think you can keep her distracted? I got an idea, but I need time."

Just as Dean was about to answer, Belle reappeared and threw her arms wide apart, sending Sam and Dean flying away from one another. "Go!" Dean called to Sam as they both scrambled to their feet. Sam ran out of Dean's sightline, so it left only him and Belle now.

"Wow, no wonder the movie never showed your face." Dean remarked, hoping to keep the ghost's attention on him.

With a screech, Belle hurled Dean into the wall again, his head spinning now with the constant abuse it had been enduring. As he began to stand up, Belle closed her hand around his throat, and she shoved him against the wall again. Her icy fingers sent goose bumps over Dean's body, and she hissed at him as she leaned in close.

"You're pretty." She whispered in his ear, and then her face turned sour. "Pretty people don't deserve to smile."

Once Dean realized what she had in mind, he clenched his jaw, determined not to open it for anything. But when she began dragging him upwards by the neck, keeping his cool was becoming a lot more difficult as his air intake was completely cut off.

Belle's eyes hardened as she increased the pressure on his windpipe, and Dean's mouth opened with a gasp. Not giving him the chance to close it again, she forced her fingers into his mouth, and gripped a tooth.

As Dean braced himself for the pain, Belle suddenly threw her head back on another shout, and she vanished again. Dean coughed and gasped as oxygen was allowed back into his lungs. He felt an arm around his shoulders, and when he looked up, it was Sam who was keeping him upright.

"C'mon." Sam urged. "We gotta go before she gets back."

In a hoarse voice, Dean managed a, "But-"

"Just trust me, okay? We gotta move." Practically dragging Dean, Sam made it outside the shack, and Sam hurried back to the door. Dean watched him take out a container of salt and pour it in front of the door. "There." He said in relief.

"Wh-" Dean coughed again. "What'd you do?"

"Found some salt, put it on all the windows and other exits, so now Belle's trapped in there. We should be able to find the body without having her to worry about anymore."

Mouth slightly agape in awe, Dean congratulated him. "Good thinking there, Sammy."

Sam smiled in earnest, but on instinct he added, "It's 'Sam.'"

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><p>It took them the rest of the day, but they had finally come across what appeared to be a genuine grace marker. The ground was soft, but the Winchesters still regretted losing their shovels. They ended up using stick to unearth the grave, Sam's efforts being far slower than Dean's, having done it left handed.<p>

Eventually, they had reached a body.

"This is the one." Sam announced.

"How you know for sure?"

Sam simply pointed at the skeleton's mouth.

Missing teeth. Dean's favourite. Drowning himself in mouthwash when they got back to the hotel was at the top of his list. He swore he could still taste the dead woman's fingers in his mouth, and he twitched involuntarily.

Sam grabbed the salt canister again, sure to keep it away from his right hand. If he got salt on his lack of nails, he just might collapse from the pain. He poured it over the corpse as Dean took out his lighter.

"Ding dong, the bitch is dead." Dean declared. And with that, he dropped the lighter onto her bones. The flames leapt to life, and both of them knew that it was over.

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><p>Okay, I seriously had a blast writing this story! Except now that it's over, I should start preparing for exams… Or I could think of a new fic to start. Yeah, there we go. I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I did writing. Let me know what you thought, and until next time, carry on my wayward sons!<p> 


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